It was her hair
by rmwlaf
Summary: Femslash between Eve and Anna (and maybe Vilanelle later). Some story with mostly smut. Don't like / agree? DON'T READ. Minimal violence, lots of romanticism and erotica (in later chapters).


Well, well, well, my pretties… please be gentle – first attempt at fanfic, VERY short intro to what I hope will be a multi-chapter work, because I could not find anything else here, and wanted to see if there is an audience. This will be slightly AU, there ARE spoilers, it involved FEMSLASH, and it WILL hit VERY M ratings including Eve/Anna and eventually perhaps Eve/Villanelle pairings. I don't own Eve (but really, does anybody?) or any part of the show or whatever. All my happy little imaginings are my own. It ain't great, and frankly there are sloppy parts where I got tired of writing the backstory and just wanted to get down to the good stuff. Also, really stodgy when it comes to adultery, so I've dispatched Nico forthwith ?

It was her hair…

It was her hair. Not just that the hair was similar… it was almost identical. It was HER hair. In seeing the older woman's reflection in the mirror, she was jolted back to the place where she'd left her heart – her very humanity. Sure, the ethnicity was different. The lips a tad thinner, maybe due to age. The eyes familiar pools of onyx. The nose broader. But the hair. Exquisite. Raven-colored. Pulled back into a barely controlled mess, curls bouncing as if begging to be pulled. She sighed as she strode out of the room. She knew Konstantin would be furious over what she was about to do, so she told herself she was demonstrating magnificent restraint in walking past the woman and unbeknownst to her granting her life. Villanelle thought she should be commended for deciding to avoid yet more unnecessary violence as she went to complete her job and get her gun off. A brief glance back reminded her she could look forward to making some new memories herself once she was home and alone.

Eve barely registered that there was another person in the loo, let alone the mysterious glance the woman was casting her way. She was frustrated, again. Frustrated with work, with Nico, with herself. As she was attempting to corral her mess of hair for the umpteenth time, the other woman spoke. "Leave it down," she said. Eve pondered the advice. "Sure, might as well," she thought. The barest of moments passed before Eve realized she was now alone in the room. A heart beat later and she was in the hallway, searching for staff – ANY staff for assistance. Something was amiss, she could feel it! But what? And how?

It became readily apparent quickly – the deadly silence was just that. Bodies strewn everywhere, blood, no signs of life. Eve spun around confused. How LONG had she been examining her face and her life in that mirror?!

As she sat in the back of the cab in Moscow, Eve had many more questions than answers about her life. There had been more of everything… more worry, more fear, more anxiety over Nico. More death, more violence, more questions. What was happening, and why? Eve had loved Bill like a brother, albeit a restrained, typically English brother. And now he was dead. Dear, sweet Bill who had only just revealed himself to be even more enigmatic than she had ever imagined possible. That poor darling baby! And the misspent adventures of his youth – those were a big reveal! BDSM play? Underground dungeons? Trysts with handsome, jacked German intelligence agents? Beards for marriage? He had been quite the busy bee. Gods, but what had she gotten him into dragging him out of retirement? Just that brief moment of seeing him hit the floor of the disco, the life draining out of him as he reached for a strangely familiar presence fading into the sea of people gyrating to the pulsing music. It had changed her. She felt it. Something broke, or shifted, or died. She wasn't certain which.

Then, the funeral… having to make excuses to Nico as to what happened and her overall safety. She wished he could see the pain in her eyes every time she was forced to tell him a half-truth. But he didn't. All Nico saw was Eve slipping further away from him and their idyllic (he thought) life in London. Before she left for Moscow they got into an epic fight. Words were said, tears flowed, and at the end he confessed he was not going to be able to continue with their marriage. The news had shattered her. Not because she was surprised, but because she thought he was the rock, and that it was she who was sacrificing so much to stay. Incompatibility in any aspect can kill a marriage, and while Eve enjoyed Nico's presence, their level of connection had frayed considerably over the years, not just because of M-15, and certainly not because of this new assignment with Carolyn.

The cab pulled up to what appeared to be a bright, modern, sleek university – the school she had been told where she might find Anna. Upon first glance, Eve liked the look of the woman. She was about Eve's age, maybe a couple of years older. Neither short nor tall, solid, but not thick. An athlete's body, Eve mused. She had strikingly similar hair to Eve's own, an open and friendly face, and shining, inquisitive eyes. All that being said, there was a distinct sense of melancholy in the woman's body language which was not reflected in her voice or demeanor… kind of like knowing someone has seen some shite, but doesn't want to transmit that to with whomever they are interacting. And her scent! Eve can't put her finger on it, but Anna smells delicious – a mix of lightly fruity overtones with perhaps a woody, clean base.

Eve feels fortunate to have been able to track Anna down, and in speaking with her gleaned some important data regarding Oksana. Anna graciously invited Eve back to her home to read more detailed letters from Oksana, and Eve can barely admit to herself she is looking forward to spending more time with her. On the way to Anna's flat, Eve thinks it welcoming to stop at a shop for a little hostess gift. But what to get a Russian? Vodka seemed a cheap ploy with perhaps obvious ulterior motives. Eve picked out a candle she thinks reflects the somewhat bohemian tastes of Anna's appearance – and one which smells vaguely of her perfume.

Arriving at Anna's flat, Eve pondered a moment at how widely she has travelled under this new assignment and imagined what her life might have been like as a field agent for M-16. Feeling somewhat lonely and even (if she's really honest) a little sorry for herself, she rings the bell. And what the hell was she wearing? Eve was fast running out of fashion choices as this trip languished, and all she had left was a pair of tight leather pants and a burgundy tie blouse under her leather duster. It would have to do.

Anna greets her in a cloud of that perfume and Eve's head started swimming a bit. Anna's smile really is captivating – there is warmth and depth, and Eve imagines how Villanelle (no, Oksana… she must remember to call her Oksana here) might very easily have fallen under the spell of this siren of academia. Anna laughs as she spots the shop bag in Eve's hands. "Oooh, I love shopping there – their candles are so relaxing!" Eve turns bright red, and Anna immediately realizes the faux pas she has committed. "Oh, but they really are my favorite!"

Eve feels the tension fall from her shoulders since Anna is so reassuring. As they enter the flat, Eve strives to place every detail of the home into her recollection. Any little detail could help with the case or even save Anna's life. And she very much wanted to save Anna's life. In fact, she was beginning to sense something more than that in herself. Eve was no prude. She'd had plenty of romantic adventures in grad school back in the States. There was something magnetic, primal even, in the look Anna was giving her as she placed a large box of letters in front of Eve. "Cake," she heartily voiced. "We must have cake!" Eve mutely nodded her ascent – was this some traditional Russian greeting for foreigners? Somehow, she doubted it was…


End file.
